Roadside Crosses (Kathryn Dance 2)

Dance offered a cautious smile and wondered what exactly Overby had said and how cautious he'd been in offering or withholding praise of an employee. Evidence for job and raise reviews, of course. Her boss's face remained neutral. How hard life can be when you're unsure.

Royce continued jovially, "So you could look me over and tell me what I'm thinking. Just because of how I cross my arms, where I look, whether I blush or not. Tip to my secrets."

"It's a little more complicated than that," she said pleasantly.

"Ah."

In fact she'd already come up with a tentative personality typing. He was a thinking, sensing extravert. And probably had a Machiavellian liar's personality. Accordingly Dance was wary.

"Well, we do hear good things about you. That case earlier in the month, that crazy man on the Peninsula here? That was a tough one. You nailed the fellow, though."

"We caught some lucky breaks."

"No, no," Overby interrupted quickly, "no breaks, no lucky. She outthought him."

And Dance realized by saying "luck," she'd suggested a criticism of herself, the CBI's Monterey office and Overby.

"And what do you do exactly, Hamilton?" She wasn't going for a status-defining "Mr.," not in a situation like this.

"Oh, jack of all trades. A troubleshooter. If there are problems involving state agencies, the governor's office, the assembly, even the courts, I look into it, write a report." A smile. "A lot of reports. I hope they get read. You never know."

This didn't seem to answer her question. She looked at her watch, a gesture that Royce noticed but that Overby did not. As she'd intended.

"Hamilton is here about the Chilton case," Overby said, then looked at the man from Sacramento to make sure that was all right. Back to Dance: "Brief us," he said like a ship captain.

"Sure, Charles," Dance replied wryly, noting both his tone and the fact Overby had said "the Chilton case." She'd been thinking of the attacks as the Roadside Cross Case. Or the Travis Brigham Case. Now she had an inkling as to why Royce was here.

She explained about the murder of Lyndon Strickland--the mechanics of the killing and how he figured in the Chilton blog.

Royce frowned. "So he's expanding his possible targets?"

"We think so, yes."

"Evidence?"

"Sure, there's some. But nothing specific that leads to where Travis is hiding out. We've got a joint CHP and sheriff's office task force running a manhunt." She shook her head. "They're not making much progress. He doesn't drive--he's on a bike--and he's staying underground." She looked at Royce. "Our consultant thinks he's using evasion techniques he learned in online games to stay out of sight."

"Who?"

"Jon Boling, a professor from UC-Santa Cruz. He's very helpful."

"And he's volunteering his time, no charge to us," Overby slipped in smoothly, as if the words were oiled.

"About this blog," Royce said slowly. "How does that figure in, exactly?"

Dance explained, "Some postings have set the boy off. He was cyberbullied."

"So, he snapped."

"We're doing everything we can to find him," Overby said. "He can't be far. It's a small peninsula."

Royce hadn't given much away. But Dance could see from his focused eyes he was not only sizing up the Travis Brigham situation but was neatly folding it into his purpose here.

Which he finally got down to.

"Kathryn, there's a concern in Sacramento about this case, I have to tell you. Everybody's nervous. It's got teenagers, computers, social networking. Now, a weapon's involved. You can't help but think Virginia Tech and Columbine. Apparently those boys from Colorado were his idols."

"Rumor. I don't know if that's true or not. It was posted on the blog by someone who might or might not have known him."